Not Tonight
by Phantom of the Black Pearl
Summary: When Rose wakes up late one night to find the Doctor no longer by her side she's not surprised. She finds him sitting awake, stewing in his guilt as he's known to do now and again. He's not ready to talk about it just yet though, so she does what she can: she holds him and assures him she'll always be there. Fluffy/angsty piece that just came to me one morning. Established Ten/Rose


Rose awoke somewhat slowly, her mind fuzzy with confusion. As she began to come to her senses she realized that something wasn't quite right. However something deep inside her, something instinctual, kept her from being alarmed. She reached out for the Doctor, but found only cold and empty space on his side of the bed. Upon her discovery her eyes fluttered open and struggled to adjust to the dark room. Rose sat up and stretched sleepily, and after a few moments of contemplation, decided to go check on the Doctor. Throwing off the blanket and wrapping the sheet around her otherwise uncovered body she wandered down the familiar hall almost mechanically.

She found him exactly where she expected to; in the control room. Well, halfway in the control room. He was sprawled in the threshold of the TARDIS. The doors were open and he sat staring out at the rain. The planet beyond him looked like Earth, but it was a place Rose had never seen before. They seemed to be sitting on a hill. Clad only in a pair of black boxers dotted with bright yellow bananas (which at any other time would have made Rose smile) the Doctor's long, skinny legs were outstretched and his back was flush with the joint of the door. His wild hair stood on end in some places and lay flat to his head in others; mussed from the pillow and no doubt his hands.

Rose stood at the other end of the room for a few moments just watching him. This was nothing new. She had been with the Doctor long enough to know that when one lives the life that he does, for as long as he has, sometimes you need a breather. Sometimes emotion overtakes you and sleep evades you, and the only thing you can do is try to work through it so you can put on a smile in the morning for your companion… and yourself. It hadn't taken Rose very long at all to be able to see right through that however, and though he would never admit it, she knew the Doctor was glad for that. It's a lonely existence, that of a Time Lord. Rose did what she could to cushion it a bit.

They had had a particularly rough go of things on the last planet they had been on and she knew that the Doctor, stubborn as he was, blamed himself for a lot of it. The trouble with that (as if it wasn't trouble enough on its own) was that when he blamed himself for horrible things that happened he often dredged up oceans of memories of other horrible things that he blamed himself for. He sometimes overwhelmed himself with guilt, and oftentimes when that happened he could be found here, in the control room, perched somewhere with a far off look on his face and the pain of all of time and space in his eyes.

Rose padded softly toward the Doctor, who seemed not to hear the rustle of the sheet against the floor. In fact he didn't move at all until she straddled his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. A long time ago he would have looked up instantly when he heard her and tried to talk his way out like he always did. The first few times he had tried to convince her to go back to bed and that he was alright. The poor, lonely man found it hard to let anyone comfort him. But gradually he got used to it. He grew accustomed to Rose in the same way that she had grown accustomed to him. He grew accustomed to her company, to her warmth and her smile, to her fire and determination. He grew accustomed to her closeness, to her skin, to her touch. It took him a while, but he grew accustomed to the nature of their relationship and how it had blossomed into so much more than friendship. He grew accustomed to letting her in, to showing her the deepest, darkest parts of himself that scared even him. And she had stayed. She had stayed and he found that he loved it, that he loved her, and to his great delight she felt the same. And he knew that everything else would be alright as long as that was true. But there were still nights like this one on occasion. When one had seen what he had seen and done what he had done there was no escaping it.

When Rose sat he looked at her and she saw the same pain in his eyes, the same guilt, that she had seen a thousand times before. A universe of it swirled there, in his deep brown orbs that were at once the saddest and the most beautiful thing Rose had ever seen. The Doctor closed his eyes when she kissed his nose and wriggled down to rest her head on his chest. He placed one hand between her bare shoulder blades and ran the other through her hair. Then he kissed the top of her head and laid his cheek there. They stayed like this for a while, silent and close, as they listened to the rain beat down on the roof of the TARDIS.

Suddenly the tiniest sob escaped the Doctor's lips. Rose sat up and found a tear rolling down his cheek. He wouldn't look at her. She kissed the tear and then his lips, and his watery eyes found hers when she pulled away.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked gently. The Doctor looked at her for a moment, and she saw the gears turning in his mind. Finally he reached to pull the sheet up over her shoulders and shook his head.

"Not tonight," he managed before wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his face between her neck and shoulder. No more words were required as Rose slid one arm around his neck and her other hand found his hair. Her shoulder gradually grew wet as the Doctor sporadically let out defeated, hushed little whimpers. She simply kissed his head now and again and whispered small comforts in his ear. After a while he ran out of tears and just stayed there in her arms; the two of them entangled in each other and exactly where they belonged. Rose began to rub his back until he gave in to his exhaustion. She gently woke him then.

"Hey," she whispered. The Doctor blinked sleepily at her.

"Bed, yeah?" she jerked a thumb in the direction of his bedroom. He nodded slowly. They stood and made their way back down the hall still partially entwined. Rose spread the sheet back over both of them as they crawled back in bed. The Doctor traced the outlines of her features and smiled.

"Thank you, Rose. For everything, for-" Rose placed a finger on his lips.

"Shh. I know," she smiled. He pulled her closer and whispered into her hair; begged:

"Please don't ever leave me, Rose Tyler. I don't think I could take it." Rose knew that were he not so completely spent at the moment he most likely would not have admitted such a thing even to himself. She relished his moment of openness.

"I'm not going anywhere, Doctor," she replied.

"Not tonight," he breathed as he began to drop off into unconsciousness again.

"Not ever," Rose promised.


End file.
